


Breath In The Rain

by magical_procrastinator



Category: Lost Girl
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dark, Gen, Heavy Angst, Psychological Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-13
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-19 07:17:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1460608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magical_procrastinator/pseuds/magical_procrastinator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on Stanislaw Lem's Solaris. EXCERPT.<br/>Outside, the pitiless rain falls, falls steady, with a fierce malignity that is all too human.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breath In The Rain

**Author's Note:**

> This is an excerpt from chapter four of a multi-chapter fic, that is written in my signature writing style. If you'd like to read the whole story, let me know, in the comments and/or by dropping me a line in my inbox :)
> 
> Also, I take prompts if anyone is interested!

She shoots out of bed as a choked gasp overturns and drowns in her throat. Her heart is in her mouth, pummeling her jaw, and every nerve ending in her body is humming with that familiar electrical charge. She hasn't dreamt about her wife like that before.

_Breathe. Goddamnit learn to breathe._

But right now it's too difficult, so she slams her fist into the wall, forgetting it's not brick. "Shit!"

Three times more she curses.

She grabs her head, gasping the oxygen into her lungs as she paces up and down, down and up, around. Everything is hurting and her knees are about to give out.

"Bo?"

She slaps herself, grabs the nearest pole to steady herself. "Go away," she hisses through clenched teeth, squeezing her eyes shut. "Get the  _Hell_ out of my head."

"Bo? Honey?"

Bo stops. Waits. Waits. Her eyes open. Her grip on the pole tightens. She can't look up.

No.

Until it starts happening to you, Dyson had said.

Sleep with the door locked, Tamsin had said.

Kenzi.

But it hadn't been Kenzi. Kenzi is dead.

Lauren is dead, has been for twenty nine years.

It's why Bo screams when she looks up.

There is no way that Lauren should be lying on the bed, smiling with those 'come hither' eyes.

 

—

 

Yet somehow, she is. Bo feels sick.

"I'm awake," she whispers, unable to tear her eyes away. She's looking for a flaw, a mistake, something that sets this woman apart from Lauren. Because she can't be Lauren. But there's nothing; even her scent is the same.

"Fucking Jesus Christ, I'm dead," Bo groans—sounds like a whimper—and slaps herself again. "How is this happening? How . . ." She stares at the woman, swallowing down the bile in her throat. This is bullshit. "How are you here? How are you  _here_?"

The blonde's smile fades a little. Confusion rushes through her eyes. "What do you mean?"

Bo gasps again, taking several steps backwards. Her voice is perfect. "Shit! No! This—this is bullshit! You can't be here! You can't be!"

Lauren just continues to stare at her.

But it can't be Lauren! "Where do you think you are right now?" Bo challenges, edging around the room slowly, towards the door. She's already memorised the combination for the lock. The blonde frowns, scratches her head.

"At home?"

Acidic poison rises in Bo's blood. "And where is  _home_?" She practically vomits the word.

The smile returns to the other woman's face. "With you, where we live. Baby, are you feeling alright?"

Bo cringes, presses her lips together in a thin, controlling line. Her eyes are on the cusp of a torrential explosion. "Do you remember being anywhere else with me? Do you remember being  _together_ anywhere else?"

Lauren seems to give it some thought, as if vocabulary has slipped her mind. With this, Bo is convinced that she is still dreaming. Lauren had never been speechless in her whole life. "Um . . . in my lab?"

"Describe it." Pause. "Come on!"

"It's dark," Lauren quickly complies. "I keep the shades drawn most of the time. All the surfaces are white. There are two computers, one is much-much bigger than the other."

"What's in the cabinet on the right-hand side of the first surface?"

"Liquid oxygen?"

Bo growls at the ground. The crease in her forehead slackens. Her eyes flick up again, her heart is thumping. "Where's my birthmark?"

Lauren grins—her teeth are dazzling—and sits up. Her golden curls cascade around her shoulders and chest, twisty and perfect as they always had been. "On the back of your right ankle." She blinks, scrambles to place her index finger on a faded pink mark on her own shoulder. "You always tell me that mine looks like a cloud. You like kissing it."

Bo blinks back. _Told. I told her._

Her brain is ready to seep out of her ears and nose. This can't be happening. "But I'm awake," she breathes, her voice weak and heavy with confusion.

"Bo," Lauren says gently, one eyebrow narrowed. "I'm so happy to see you. I love you so much . . . don't you love me anymore?"

Bo squints as fresh tears fill her eyes. She needs to get out. She needs air. "I have to check on something with the crew."

But as soon as she's turning away Lauren is up, rushing, screaming. "No! _No!_ Don't leave me!"

Bo spins around just as Lauren grabs her arms. "Don't leave me!" Acting fast, Bo grabs her wrists and pulls them away from her, cupping her neck in one hand and guiding her backwards. The feeling of her hair through her fingers infuriates her. "Why!? Why!?"

"Don't leave me!" Lauren cries again, reaching up to touch Bo only to have her hands caught in Bo's free one. She's pushed back onto the bed, into a sitting position, and Bo hovers over her, still gripping onto her. Lauren expels a long, somewhat relieved breath, gazing at her with wild, crazy eyes.

"Why!?" Bo yells again, visibly startling the blonde. She cringes and lowers her voice—she doesn't know what that's about. "Why?"

"I-I don't know," Lauren says quietly, shaking her head. "I don't know."

The panic and the anger is over. Bo lets go of Lauren, takes a step back as unwelcome memories flood back into her mind. Lauren lunges forward, frightened. Bo catches her bony shoulders in her firm hands. "It's okay," she whispers gently. "It's okay."

Lauren calms down.

Bo can't help but smooth her thumb over the blonde's skin, can't help but feel pathetic as she traces the outline of the cloud birthmark, like she used to.

Lauren is dead. This can't be real.

This isn't real.


End file.
